


Plucking My Guitar Strings

by SanderSins



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series), Thomas Sanders, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Add to the tags as we go, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bulimia, Drug Use, Eating Disorders, Emotional Manipulation, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Food mention, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Manipulation, Mental Health Issues, Physical Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Roman trying his best, Self-Harm, Sexual Abuse, Smitten Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Smoking, Suicidal Thoughts, domestic abuse, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 19:36:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20569742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SanderSins/pseuds/SanderSins
Summary: Virgil aspires to become a recording artist, but can't control his own anxiety. His relationships don't seem to be as inspiring as Virgil lets on either. With the push from God knows where Virgil finally pushes himself to go to an independent music group where he meets a loud and obnoxious prep - who’s only there to show off... And poke fun at Virgil apparently. But when Roman overhears Virgil practicing everything seems to switch inside of him. He immediately tries to make Virgil perform more for him and is speechless to find out Virgil's songs are originals.Roman immediately vows to support Virgil, for reasons unbeknownst to him and becomes very protective of him.Will all this great fortune be enough to push Virgil to fix his relationship once and for all? Or will it all be for nothing?





	1. Chapter One

A red water-like substance poured from the sleek, white marble to the dark tile below, suffocating the expensive material in an unforgiving pattern. The tall white marble slab dripped, calling for help as it drowned. Seeping, sloshing, streaming.  
The only sounds to be heard.   
Well… that and the erratic heartbeat of a frozen animal. 

Drip. Drip. Drip.  
His ears were deafened, unable to defend themselves against the screeching of red wine as it stumbled from the white stone. His mouth gaped open helplessly to suck in air but had no luck. His eyes were wide, desperately trying to process what he had done.  
Though, once they had, they could only wish they hadn't. 

Curses scrambled through Virgil's head like vermin. Clawing at his brain and shredding his skull.  
'Shit.’  
...  
'No.’  
...  
'Virgil, you useless fuck, you just had to mess up again, didn't you? He's definitely going to leave you now. You deserve nothing. Nothing. Nothing!’

“Virgil? Where's my wine?” Called a deep-voice, layered with suspicion, the familiarity of it made Virgil shudder.   
“U-um. I-I’ll just be o-one second!” He squeaked, grabbing a wash-cloth and dropping to his knees. The impact made him wince but he didn't stop to whine about it. Instead, he scrubbed furiously at the red on the floor and up the length of light wooden cupboards. Here, it came up pretty well, though the wood was a little stubborn. He eventually moved up to the marble surface and scrubbed vigorously at the tainted white.   
Although the pool of red cleared up fairly quickly, the wood itself remained tinted- barely enough for the human eye to catch, mind you. Though the person Virgil wanted to hide it from was no ordinary human. If Virgil messed up, they would notice.  
They always did.

The clicking of expensive leather heels caught Virgil's attention rather quickly. He froze once more in realisation. He was coming. And he was coming fast. 

Hastily he swiped up the rest of the spilled alcohol and whimpered at the pink-tint left on the cupboard. Only then did he realise that the once fluffy, grey cloth in his hands was now stained with the carcass of Virgil's mistakes, threatening to drip over the areas he had just managed to salvage. 

Not knowing what to do with the cloth, which had no hope in hiding it being saved, Virgil did the only logical thing left to do. He opened the pristinely painted window and threw the cloth over the fence of his partner's yard. He hadn't time to check just how far he had thrown it before he had to shut the window and rush over to the wine glass.

Virgil had barely finished pouring the glass before his loved one stepped into the doorway.

He turned quickly and offered the man his glass without a word, dread filling him when it wasn't accepted. 

“Virgil.” Gravel grit between the teeth of the other, “What have you done?”

Virgil's breath hitched. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe! 

Gasping, Virgil froze, frantically breathing as if he had been held underwater.   
“I-I… I'm sorry! I d-didn't mean to- I've messed up again…”, Virgil whimpered, tears pricking at his frightened eyes. A sigh made his eyes drop to the floor, head bowed in submission. He felt nothing as if his body was suspended in the air. No sensation graced his skin except for the feeling of existence which felt like nothing at all. Nothing.

Then something. A sharp sting forced his head to the side, his left cheek stung and throbbed, dragging a small whimper from his throat. Then a sob. A dry, wretched sob. 

His shoulders dropped, admitting his defeat as he curled into himself, his face hiding in the shadow of his lover.   
He daren’t move, that would show strength. Strength was one thing Virgil did not have.

Silk caressed his cheek, it's delightfully cool-tone soothed the throbbing heat on Virgil's face, he had to force away a wince but it was worth it. If he jerked he’d surely get punished if he submits to the touch of his gentle love he'd be showing obedience. Obedience was something his boyfriend liked. So, Virgil leaned into the touch.  
“Thank you, sir.”

His quiet whimper filled the eerie silence of the house not long before another echoing smack...

Bright lights fluttered against a soft red velvet curtain. A soft, gentle humming accompanied them in their dance across the fabric, encouraging them to dance greater than they did before like a king encourages his knights. A king. Yes, or maybe a prince? A prince preparing for his reign. Yes, yes! Precisely that, a prince was not powerless after all, he just hadn’t learned his power yet! The king would teach him, and then send him off to find the love of his life…  
Huh.

“Roman!”

Roman smiled and jumped from his bed, hurrying downstairs towards the soft, warm voice. Jumping the last two steps of the staircase the 17-year-old waltzed into the kitchen and greeted his mother with a smile. 

“Roman, could you be a dear and set out the plates?” His mother asked sweetly as she drained out the pasta. Roman made quick work of grabbing three plates, just as he turned towards the table a gentle hand touched his arm. “Just two for tonight, dear.” Her voice was soft and low, almost afraid. And Roman knew why. His excitement left his body, sinking down into the floorboards, far away from Roman. Annoyed, Roman dropped one of the plates back into the cupboard and flinched back at its clatter of discomfort.

“Oh… He’s working overtime… Again?” Roman mumbled, trudging over the round, wooden table and placing two plates down beside each other.

“Yeah, he is… but that’s okay! We’re still going to eat together- you and me. Why don’t you tell me about that new music group?” Her voice piped up, high and optimistic, Roman couldn’t help but feel sympathy for his mother. She didn’t deserve this…

Roman gazed over at his mother in worry. She was a truly beautiful woman. Her face was carved out like a Greek sculpture, yet every cut was soft and gentle and framed with long golden hair that curled around her shoulders with everlasting youth. A sweeping fringe dripped across the right of her creamy white face, like honey, minding way of those bright emerald eyes that she would keep wide with curiosity. Roman often called her a Goddess of Youth, but she would always laugh it off. She was so beautiful, and kind, and selfless and caring and nurturing- so why… Why couldn’t dad appreciate what he had? Why would he discard her for…   
Roman sighed.

“Yeah… yeah, okay, mom.” 

That’s how his evening went, chatting idly with his mother over a hot plate of pasta. Dad might not appreciate what they had, but Roman sure did…


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to upload this 3 days ago but college is a bitch so you're getting it now.

Virgil awoke with a jerk, throwing himself forward as he fought back the bile that was bubbling in his throat. He’d had one of those dreams again- why the fuck wouldn’t his mind let him forget? He just wanted to forget! 

A strangled scream punched against Virgil’s clenched teeth as they fought to keep him quiet. Hands pulled at dull purple hair, successfully ripping out strands from the sensitive scalp.

He was stupid, stupid, stupid!   
The word threw itself around Virgil’s mind, his body projecting the mantra through rough smacks against his head that wouldn’t shut up. A weak, rocking body. A vessel caving in on itself- and who could really blame it? Existence is hard, strenuous, and this vessel was so weak. Finally, after years of pain, it’s collapsing and Virgil fell with it. 

Same old tragic story.

Clawed hands kept his mouth silent but broken sniffles awoke the man beside him.   
“Virgil…” His deep voice growled, dragging across Virgil's ears like gravel. Almost immediately Virgil flung himself into a kneeling position, hands bracing themselves next to his boyfriend. Begging through prayer, begging for forgiveness.   
“I-I’m sorry! I just-”  
“I don’t need to hear your pitiful excuses, boy.” The harshness made Virgil flinch, ducking his head into the mattress.   
“Yes, Sir…” 

With a tut of disapproval, the dark figure sat up, sitting against dark oak, sanded smooth to compliment his back. Not Virgil’s, no, Virgil found the entire bed to be extremely uncomfortable. A firm mattress with soft pillows, he couldn’t tell you how many times his back seized up overnight, but Virgil’s preferences didn’t matter. Virgil didn’t matter. 

His boyfriend huffed, reaching a grey-toned hand out to grip at Virgil’s dark, brown hair, dull and lifeless. Virgil all but yelped when his boyfriend tugged at the greasy strands, yanking the quivering man closer and forcing Virgil's head into his lap. 

“What, you're still too pathetic to keep your dreams separate from reality?” Virgil's lover scoffed, causing a whimpered reply.

“Y-yes, Sir… I'm sorry, Sir.”   
Virgil had to force back a sob from the humiliation of the situation he was in. He couldn't comprehend why his boyfriend couldn't understand, these dreams were Virgil's reality. They make him relive things he wishes he could forget ever happened, and Virgil wanted to scream that at his love, but he couldn't.   
The other man simply scoffed once more, throwing Virgil aside by his hair and shifting to face the wall, away from his disgraced beauty. 

“Fine then, be weak. But be fucking quiet about it.” 

With that, he fell asleep and left Virgil to shake beside him, lost in his torturous thoughts.

'Surely… If he doesn't think it's a big deal, then it isn't a big deal. He loves me, so he'd care if it mattered...’

Roman laid awake, staring up at the glitter white ceiling and the glistening gold swirls that tangoed across it. He remembers the day they were painted, his dad was smiling with him the entire time as they painted gentle swirls and courageous dots to accent. Everything was so perfect back then, so why? Why did he have to change?

It was after Romans 13th birthday, five years ago. His parents had always given him what he wanted without spoiling him and Roman was so grateful for that. Every year he would get one big gift he had asked for and a dozen other gifts, smaller but equally enjoyable. That year Roman had been moving into his teens, so naturally, he tried to be more mature with his requests.   
A pet, a laptop, a new phone, the list went on. But most of all Roman wanted to go see a musical on Broadway, and a mature musical at that.   
He had listened to the soundtracks of Heather's and Dear Evan Hansen already, but now he was ready to see them in their full glory. Well, so he thought. 

His mother's heart swelled at the idea, smiling when her son did his best to sound and behave like the 'adult he was turning into’, and while hesitant, she wanted to give him the gift of feeling like a mature adult.  
His father disagreed.

Once he had been shown the overall summary of both plays he immediately turned down any possibility of Roman viewing them. He insisted Roman was far too young and told Roman to ask for something else. Although disappointed, and quite angry, Roman didn't want to irritate his father and reluctantly dropped the subject.

Despite his father's clear disapproval the morning or his birthday his mother handed him an envelope. Inside sat three tickets to Dear Evan Hansen. Ecstatic, Roman immediately jumped up and thanked his mother and then his father, but dear father had no idea what laid inside that envelope and was not too happy when he later found out.

That night, as Roman got ready for bed, he heard the distant shouting from downstairs. Curious, he padded over to his door and cracked it open. His parents rarely fought… why now? Why today?

Peering through the small crack in his door, Roman stood still with quiet breathing, trying not to be caught. At first, there was silence, but then he heard it. His ears strained barely enough to hear down the hall and downstairs, but they did, and what Roman heard was something he wishes he could have slept through.

Screaming.   
Screams of hate towards the one you love, Roman couldn’t understand. He glanced across his wall of Disney posters. The princes smiling happily with their princess, that’s how it’s supposed to be. Why are his mother and father yelling at each other? They need to stop!  
Silent tears raced down Romans cheeks. Barely a few, but they lay heavily against his soft, smooth skin.

“I told you not to buy them! I told you I didn’t want him to go!”  
“Well, I do! I’m Romans mother, I have a say in what he gets to do too!” 

Romans breath hitched in sync to a dreadful pause. No one spoke. No one breathed. The silence didn’t last very long, less than half a minute in all honesty, but the weight of it bore onto each and every individual in the house- and for a moment Roman wanted to go comfort Remy, his favourite bear. But he couldn't, he was frozen in shock and fear. 

Musical long since forgotten about, Romans mind was racing over his father's words. 

“No! You listen to me! I say he is not going so that is final!” 

A slap echoed loudly, the noise pushed Roman back to his bed where he dived deep into the safe blankets. The rustling filled his ears for a moment, but once he stopped moving it was silent. Too silent.   
Then a slam. Then a scream. Then silence. 

Roman still didn't know what happened that night, and he still didn't understand.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave support and constructive criticism in the comments! I'm not sure if people would even want to read this story so if you would please let me know I'd really appreciate it <3
> 
> If this flops I'll just delete it and pretend it never happened.


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